Running from the Heart
by authorgirl
Summary: Will Christine ever forgive herself? Will she let Erik help her? Will she stop running from the heart?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

**Chapter one**

It was beyond freezing as Christine Daae walked the streets of Paris. The only thing protecting her from the harsh unrelenting winter night air was the thin white dress she had on. It was the same dress she wore for the Don Juan duet the night before. Her mind flashed to the look of anguish in his eyes. "How could I hurt him? How could I hurt us?" She thought as she prayed silently with all her might for numbness, numbness of her body, heart, and mind. It was a prayer that would never be answered she realized as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks." What was I thinking?" she whispered to herself and for the thousandth time that night she was overcome with rage. Within moments she stumbled across a poorly lit almost deserted street, and collapsed in despair. Raul was gone. She would never see her Angel of Music again. He had smashed the mirror and how could she blame him. "It was all her fault and now she had to take whatever punishments might befall her.

She had no concept of how long she sat on the cold street unmoving but when she looked up Christine found herself in front of a small pub. Snow began to fall in an almost trance-like state she forced herself to rise, dusted herself off, walked a few steps and pulled the door open. At that moment Christine was thrust into another world. The music that greeted her screamed and hurt her ears. It did not sound at all like any music she was used to. She surveyed the pub's costumers fighting the urge to run. Obnoxious men sat making crude jokes and drinking. Most of these men had companions beside them with too much rouse, and red lipstick, who wore bright colored dresses that revealed almost everything. Without making eye contact with anyone Christine found and sat at a table directly across from the doorway. At least it was warm here. Thoughts of her Angel of Music hunted her. She would give anything to hear his voice, anything to feel his gloved hand on her fingertips which were now almost numb with cold. She shook her head as if by this simple motion she could rid herself of the thoughts that entered her mind. She wanted them to stop. She didn't want to think. She didn't want to feel. "I have to get him out of my mind" she thought. "He lied to me for years and I let him. I let him control me. How could I be so naive no wonder he called me a child." Her thoughts suddenly flashed to Raul the moment he left her. He was in such pain. "Is that all I know how to do?" She thought degusted "cause men anguish?"

"Mademoiselle" Christine was called back to the here and now by a male voice. She jumped in her seat. "Mademoiselle" the bar keeper repeated. "Those men would like you to have this and this." He placed a drink and crumpled up wad of money on the table Christine's green eyes went wide with horror. She followed his gaze to two huge men, one with blond hair as bright as the sunlight, and the other with fiery red hair. They waved entreating her to come join them. She turned away feeling sick. The bar keeper looked at her with concern. "Are you all right mademoiselle?" She noted that the bar keeper appeared to be the same age as her father was when he died. Christine looked down at the money placed before her, her face was hot with a new wave of shame. Speechless and without making eye contact she got up from her chair, and ran out the door without looking behind her. Seeing her go the bar keeper smiled with satisfaction, reached over and took the money. Those men should be ashamed of themselves. There was no reason they should get their money back.

Christine had only walked a few feet before sensing someone watching her. She kept walking. The feeling of being watched had become part of her. Her angel had watched her for years. It was logical that she would always feel a presence with her, watching her until she got used to living without him. The question was could she ever learn to live without him? "I will not let it control me. I am not being watched it is just my imagination. And I must stop thinking of him as my angel. He is not my angel" She scolded herself. Suddenly she shivered unable to move on another step. At that moment the two large men from the pub approached blocking her path.

"Please let me get by" she pleaded softly. Fear gripping her.

"Cold night tonight isn't it Mademoiselle" said the red head his voice calm and dipping with evil.

"Yes" she answered quickly. She would not let them know how much she feared them. She looked the redhead straight in the eye. She tried to study her knees which were now shaking. "Please let me pass now Monsieur." She tried to walk around the silent one with the sun colored hair but was instantly blocked. "Let me go!"

"You hear that? She wants us to let her go." The red head said to his silent friend laughing. "I don't think you want that. I can keep you warm."

"Let me go Monsieur. She tried to push past him with all the strength she had left but it was not enough.

That was not wise. It is best that you do as we say."

"You are the only one trying to give orders. He just acts as your muscle. If you are trying to intimate me it isn't working! I don't take orders now let me go!" Christine had no idea where from inside her these last words came from, but she quickly spat in his face while she held on to her courage. The red head stepped so close to her now she could feel his disgusting breath. He grabbed her and threw her down to the ground.

. "All we want is to make your acquaintance, to be friends. We paid you well I don't see why you have to be so disagreeable.

"I didn't take it!" she cried before he forced his month to hers. "Oh G-d this can't happen" she thought paralyzed with fear. Tears filled her eyes, she shut them tightly. She could feel his weight crushing her. Once again she prayed for numbness. She heard the top of her dress being ripped and a rush of fidget air meet her flesh.

"I strongly suggest that you remove yourself from her before I remove you. I assure you that if I am forced to remove you it will be a most excruciating experience. Do not think sirs that I will not kill for her safety."

"Angel?" Christine thought. "No it couldn't be I must be dreaming." She heard some noise and than she felt the redhead or his silent friend being lifted off her. She wasn't sure anymore. She heard some more noise she could not make out and then her name. "Christine" his voice was gentle and filled with deep concern. She opened her eyes. He knelt down beside her getting in position to lift her off the ground and carry her in the safety of his arms. She would give anything to feel his warmth.

"I can not let him do that" she thought quickly managing with great difficult to rise. He followed her. "Thank-you so much." She paused looking down at her tiny shaking hands. She could not bear to look at him when she said the last words she needed to say. "Goodbye I have to go. Please be well."

"Please be well?" he boomed back. "Christine what are you doing walking these streets, and in nothing but that flimsy dress on the coldest night of winter?" He moved behind her, taking off his cloak and draping it tightly around her small body.

"Please you can go I'm all right."

"You're coming with me."

"No". she answered softly shaking her head."I won't." The phantom let out a heavy sigh. He could see she was serious about not going with him. To her he was nothing but a monster to be feared, and hated. He loved her, he would always love her and he was certainly not going to leave her here to fend for herself. It was getting colder by the minute. Snow was falling again in blankets and he could see his angel's beautiful features beginning to turn blue. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

He began to sing "I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music" A warm serge went through Christine's entire body. She felt herself entering a trance-like state. She took two steps forward and then stopped. She had to fight this. She had to fight him. He lied to her. She shook her head slowly. "No don't do that" She whispered she wanted to run from him but she couldn't. Her legs felt like blocks of ice.

"Christine you are coming with me." He said commandingly.

"No please, angel leave me here." Go I deserve it! Let me go you did once before!" She was shaking uncontrollable now. Without speaking a word he lifted her into his arms. She gazed at him for a moment before burying her face in his chest, but did not protest.

The man known as the Phantom ran into his lair fear gripping him like a vise around his neck. A few moments earlier Christine's exquisite body had gone limp and she had fainted. He had to warm her now or his angel on earth would become an angel in haven. "Christine wake up do you hear me?" You can not sleep now I won't let you leave me Christine". His voice was firm, but gentle. He patted her face and within moments she began to stir and moan, her head nodding from side to side. He placed her on her bed. "Christine you must wake up!" He said with conviction never removing his hand from her face. His heart leapt with joy when he saw her luminous green eyes open wide, but his happiness was short lived when he saw her perfect features creased with fear. Her words caused him gut- retching pain.

"No, No please I didn't take your money."

"Christine look at me, look at me. I'm here. I will always be here. No one will hurt you. Those barbarians are gone." She blinked 4 times before her eyes came to focus on him. When they did her fear seemed to instantly disappear as if it had never been. A faint smile made its way to her lips. He was alive! He was safe. She was in his lair in the bed he constructed for her with his strong masterful hands. That meant her plan had worked hadn't it? Her mind was spinning. She was so cold. She saw her angel leaving her again. "No he couldn't please angel" her mind screamed. She couldn't speak.

"I'm right here angel" he said feeling her fear well up inside him. For years he had loved her, for years he had nurtured her, their love grow more powerful by the instant. He knew her so well he thought there was nothing left for him to discover about her soul. He had been wrong. He realized now that he could feel every emotion Christine felt at the moment she felt it for himself.

Christine was so tired. His voice was so far away. The sound of it washed over her like a calm ocean wave but she could not make out what he was saying. She wanted him to stay why was he leaving why? "Wait she thought remembering what had happened. "I deserve to be left after what I did. How could I have violated his privacy, unmasking his face in front of a packed Opera house"? It did not matter to her what her actions were after that. Suddenly her skin tingled at the warmth of his hands as they made contact with her tiny bare feet. He had removed her socks and shoes and was now massaging them up and down trying to warm her just when she was beginning to feel completely numb.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The man known to his beloved only as the Angel of Music lost track of exactly how long he had worked gradually warming Christine's body and sitting at the edge of her bed watching over her. He had spent years in a state of unspeakable agony being ridiculed and abused by monsters who called themselves "human beings" during his many days in many "freak shows". He had been sold, laughed at, mocked, and beaten to the point of unconsciousness. His ruthless captors had dined like kings compared to the straps he was forced to beg for and accept from their filthy hands. It was just enough to keep him hanging onto life. Sometimes just for fun to take their minds off the misery that was their own lives his oppressors would force him to stay awake in the dead of night, pocking and hitting him with whatever objects were in their reach when he closed his horror filled eyes. Yes he had endured more agony then most, but none of it had prepared him for the physical and mental pain he experienced watching his angel on earth, Christine suffer.

He smiled as Christine's chest finally rose and fell with ease. The feeling of his month turning upward was a strange sensation to him. If memory served him right he had never smiled in his life until now. Before he could think of a reason he shouldn't he leaned over and softly kissed her forehead. Suddenly he felt happiness radiate from her. It felt to him like a burst of sunshine. Was it because of him, because his lips had touched her? When he broke contact she moved slightly in her sleep. He smiled again.

.

He no longer had to force Christine to stay awake. She was finally warm enough to sleep peacefully and safely. He let his mind wonder to several hours ago Christine had begged him in an almost inaudible whisper. "Please angel let me sleep. I want to sleep please." He was forced to repeatedly refuse her.

"No I can not let you." He said. "I know you are exhausted, but you must stay awake." His heart was not made of stone, as everyone seemed to think it was but it beat for Christine. At that point she was still so cold to the touch. Surrendering to sleep would have meant surrendering to the Angel of Death and if that happened he would never survive. She was delirious. She had busies on her body from being grabbed and thrown to the icy hard ground by those barbarians. How could anyone want to hurt her? He could hardly catch his breath he felt as though he had tied the lasso he had become so famous for around his own neck and it was slowly squealing the life out of him. He touched her face with an ungloved hand. She responded with a terrified moan

"No angel of music, No. Why are you doing this? Don't make me." Each one of her cries was met by his soothingly voice.

"Shh", he answered. "It's all right. You're safe with me."

He exited her bedroom and entered his kitchen. He was preparing her a meal when he heard a painful gasp from her lips. She was awake. In less than thirty seconds he was standing by her bedside. She had been trying to sit up.

"Christine be careful. Don't move too quickly." He said alarmed. She fell back on two soft pillows. "Let me help you." He placed his right hand gently on her shoulder and helped her. This time she did not fall back.

"Why does it hurt so much?" She asked out loud to herself. Since her eyes fluttered open she had been filled with nothing but confusion. She was so groggy. She thought she heard the voice of her angel but that couldn't be. She had left him. She was alone in the world.

"Don't cry darling" Her angel's voice said sensing she was on the verge of tears.

"Where am I?" She whispered.

"You're with me angel, in my house." He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down again. He looked deep into her eyes and concentrated. He spoke slowly and firmly, his voice still holding its musical quality. He hoped this would help to clear her mind. "You have some bruises. They will heal and they should not hurt for very long."

"Buries?" "How did I get buries?" As afraid as she had first been in the presence of her angel she knew he would never harm her. The voice she heard answering her questions was his voice. She was looking at his masked face. She was remembering and spoke aloud answering her own questions. "I was walking the streets. Two men tried to… and you… you… came… and protected me." She began to sob, her whole body shaking "Why, why did you protect me? Why didn't you let it happen?"

"I don't think you know what it is you're saying? I wasn't going to stand there and watch the woman I love being violated!" He yelled. "You stay here don't even think about moving from that bed, you're not strong enough yet." He ran to the kitchen and within moments was back with a plate of food and a cup of steaming tea. He found Christine trying to exit her room. She was planning to leave him again he knew. What he didn't know was why? She had seemed comforted by him before. Her mood changed from one brief moment to the next. He placed the cup and plate on her nightstand. His footsteps were soft but he moved as swiftly as lighting. He blocked the door. Her luminous green eyes went wide with surprise. She backed away a few inches loosing her balance. He caught her body before she fell to the ground. He raised her chain gently, but spoke very authoritatively.

"What did I say? Oh angel I know what your next move is before you do."

"Let me go!" she tried to free herself from his arms but he held on. "You talk about not wanting to see me violated! What did you do?" On the streets of Paris Christine remembered wearing a white dress, the one she had worn for her performance with the phantom. She was now wearing a beautiful warm lilac nightgown with white lace trim on the bottom. That could only mean one thing. "You… You… undressed me. You saw… No man has ever seen me." She couldn't say it. Her cheeks grew red with shame. Although he was hurt that she thought for an instant that he could harm her and although it killed him to witness her humiliation the man known to her as Angel of Music was relieved to see the color of life in her beautiful face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

"What did you do?" Christine repeated as his light piecing eyes stared at her as though he were reading her soul like a favorite book. "I am not a whore! You had no right to... to undress me." He took a deep breath. It was a breath that held within it all the despair, and madness he had ever felt and as much as she tried Christine couldn't help flinching at the sound of it. As for the Phantom he could feel her shaking as he held on to her. He lifted her up in his arms with one quick motion. She was so light he felt as if he were holding a rag doll. He placed her gently on the bed. He then stood in front of her, his eyes ablaze. "What do you think I did Christine?" He spat out angrily. Christine wanted to look away but found it impossible. Her eyes were locked on him, she watched as the unmasked portion of his face turned scarlet. He could feel her fear intensify with each passing moment and his shoulders shook in response. He hoped she didn't noticed, he didn't want to explain to her what was happening now. She said nothing. "Good" he said to himself silently. "She didn't notice". Then out loud he continued his speech repeating his first question. "What do you think I did Christine? Do you think I took advantage of your vulnerable state? It is not the first time you have been vulnerable in my presence angel. What did I do then? Do you fear now that I touched you with my revolting hands, that I forced myself on your uncurious body? I did now what I did all of the other times you laid sleeping on that bed angel. I behaved like a gentleman. That is more than I can say for those beasts you met! They didn't care what you needed, what you wanted. They hurt you, and they would have done more damage if I had not come to your aide!" He began to pace up and down the room, picking up speed with each new word he spoke. "They did not have this face! They did not have my face! The face of the hideous devil's child, this face of death! Does that make their hands less vile Christine! You said I should have just let it happen! You would rather experience the horrors of a rape you would never be able to escape than come into contact with me?" His voice softened. "I did nothing to you, nothing to dishonor or shame you. You are still pure as white snow." He quickly turned his face away from her.

A few moments earlier Christine had thought in impossible for her heart to sink any lower but she had been wrong. She was always frightened of his outbursts but what frightened even more was when he turned away from her as he just did. The thought that he would never look upon her again crossed her mind and she fought back tears. She would never let him see her cry. He would want to comfort her and that could not happen. "G-d please make me numb to his pain and mine I beg of you." She prayed silently. "What happened to him to make him hate himself with so much passion? G-d forgive me the more time I spend with him the more I deepen his unnatural hatred of himself. He is here with me. I should tell him how happy and grateful I am for that miracle, and that I had a hand in keeping him safe. No I can not do that" she argued with herself. "He can never know what I did to protect him from death. I must make him hate me. It is the only way. What she wanted to however was completely opposite of what she felt she needed to do. What she wanted to do was get out of bed and fling herself into his arms. She bit her lip fighting this urge that would have surely overpowered her if she were not positive that she was too weak at the moment for such a gesture. She would hit the floor before she got to him. That was a fact she was grateful for. Her head was pounding. "I have no right to run to him." She thought to herself. I only have the right and obligation to run from him."

The Phantom was silent for a long time. His head was killing him as he tried to discern which emotions were his and which were hers. He was angry. He loved her and here she was accusing him of rape! He turned back to her and felt her heart fill with joy, followed by fear, followed by anger, followed by a sadness he feared would consume her. He was confused, he had never been confused in his whole life and he despised this emotion. As he approached her swan-shaped bed and sat down again, her breathing became erratic. She couldn't bear the devastation that she saw in his spellbinding eyes. She looked down at her hands to discover they were shaking. At that moment a tear escaped from the confines of her right eye. She prayed it did not notice. "Christine Speak, look into my eyes right now and SPEAK!" He could feel that she had no intension of speaking. "Fine" he said after what felt like and eternity. "I can see that you are at a loss for words my dear, but you will speak to me eventually. Do not fool yourself into thinking that you will not! For now you must eat and that is not a request Christine. It is an order. If you refuse I shall have to feed you. You should know by now that I do not make empty threats. When she didn't look up he continued. "I know you Christine I know that you didn't eat on the streets of Paris. I also know that you never eat before a performance." He was right Christine thought. She hadn't eaten anything before the Don Juan disaster; with the exception of a piece of fruit she had forced herself to have that morning. She couldn't even remember what kind of fruit it was. At that moment her hunger pains became unbearable. "He can force me to eat" she thought reaching for her plate on the nightstand. He can even force me to stay here. He is stronger than me. He is faster than me I can not even get out of bed. But he can not make me sing and he can not make me speak to him. She took a bite of food before meeting his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"How did I get here?" Christine thought to herself confused only moments ago she had been in her swan bed's embrace and now suddenly without warning she found herself in the passageways leading to her Angel of Music. Had she escaped him? She didn't remember trying since the time he had stopped her at the door. Holding on to her and saying that he knew her moves before she did. Who did he think he was? "If I have escaped him, why am I running towards him now and not away from him? Her head felt so clouded. Could she be dreaming? The idea seemed logical after all she had no memory of getting here. "No" she answered her question aloud, shaking her head. It felt so real. Should she turn back? A cold chill ran down her spine. She had never ventured down these passageways by herself? She had always had him to guild her. With him by her side her balance never wavered. He held her hand tightly to ensure her safety. Just when she thought she would die of exhaustion from what seemed like a never-ending walk he would lift her into a row boat for two. Never saying a word, but drinking in her feature like he would drink a good wine. When they arrived at his lavish home, he would lead her to his organ, and she would loose herself in him, only conscious of the perfect blending of their voices and souls. They would sing until Christine felt her eyes closing. Then she would whisper "Sing to me angel please, just you." Without the aide of a violin, organ, or any other instrument he would grant her request singing of his love long after she succumbed to sleep. This she was sure of because his angelic voice would follow her into her deepest dreams. Over the years an understanding beyond music formed between them strengthening their already indestructible bond. She confided things to him she would not utter to anyone, feelings she did not realize she processed until she expressed them to him aloud. How could she think even for a micro second she could run from him?

Now with the look in his eyes as she left him burned in her memory she ran to him ignoring the terror she felt and the instinct that told her to turn back. It was an instinct driven by fear and for once she was determined to be brave. Her father had always said "Bravery does not mean that you are not frightened. It means doing something that frightens you despite your fear." At times when it most mattered fear could be overcome, and this was one of these times. The question was could she battle the darkness? All she saw in front of her were shadows. An unexpected twist in the path caused her to trip. Before she was able to recover her balance she fell onto the hard cold ground letting a scream escape her lips as she did so. She lay there feeling defeated until a voice reached her ears.

"Christine, Christine I need you." She pushed off on the ground using it for support, made it to her feet, and continued her journey guided by her angel's cry of distress. She prayed with all might that she would somehow find a way to repair the damage she knew she caused. Through the mist which seemed to thicken with each passing moment she made her way to his boat, got in and rowed with a strength she did not think she had. Within moments she was entering his home.

"Angel of Music, where are you?"

"Christine I love you, please, please I need you!" She heard him cry.

"Where are you?" She screamed. "I'm coming." Her heart was pounding so loud she thought it might fall from her chest. She franticly searched every room, every corner of his magnificently built home, but he she could not find him. She ran into his music room again. "He has to be here. I am not looking hard enough. Are there any rooms I don't know about?" She thought. "Where are you?" She screamed again, her throat becoming raw.

"He's gone" Mademoiselle." She jumped at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and turned to see at least the thirty men standing in the music room with lit torches. How could she have not seen them before? How could she have not seen the fire light coming from the torches? No she was sure they had not been here before.

"Where is he? What did you do to him? Tell me now!"

"He's dead Mademoiselle. Something like him should not live." Said the calm male voice she had heard moments before. He was standing in the middle of the mob acting as ring leader. He was the same man who had forced her to the ground, and tried to brutally steal her innocence.

"How dare you! He is not something and you killed him!" You and your friends are the ones who do not deserve to live. I hate you!"

"Mademoiselle hold your tongue. I said that thing does not deserve to live, but my friends and I did not kill him. You did."

"What" She chocked out barely able to catch her breath. The room was spinning so fast. He couldn't be… dead. The man was lying. It wasn't beneath him to rape. Why would it be beneath him to lie?

"Yes Mademoiselle he is dead and it is all your fault!"

"No" She ran over to her angel's cherished organ. Its ivory keys were spattered with the reddest blood she had ever seen. "It can't be. How did this happen?" She thought to herself: as if sensing what was on her mind the man in the middle of the mob continued.

"You killed him Mademoiselle!"

"Stop it!" She said sobbing, her body tumbling. She sank to the floor next to the once beautiful organ. She felt her soul crumble, but this did not stop the man from tormenting her.

"If you had run off with him, left this place with him no one would have been able to harm him. The thing had nothing to live for, he gave up. You already murdered his soul. He's dead." The man laughed a laugh of pure evil. The words "he's dead" echoed throughout the house non-stop. Christine opened her month to voice the pain that nothing could ever heal, but no sound came.

The Phantom sat at his organ too preoccupied to play a note. Christine had been with him an entire week and still had not spoken a word. The only time she opened her month was to eat barely enough to keep her alive. And he knew this was only because he had promised to force feed her if she did not cooperate. She was so thin already and by his estimation she had lost at least ten pounds since he found her again. "Soon I will have to make good on my promise" he thought to himself. She would not die with him. He would get her to speak he just could not think of how to accomplish this yet. Christine had built up a wall she never had before. He went into her room several times during the day and night trying to force her to sing, but so far he had been unsuccessful. Why was she so upset with him? All he did was for her. Every piece of music was for her, every one of his heartbeats was for her. Why did she want to die? Suddenly jolted by a new wave of Christine's terror his fingers hit every key of the organ making a horrid banging noise. He got up from the bench and raced to Christine's bedroom. He found her sitting bolt right up in bed, panting softly, her flawless skin glistening with sweat. He knew that look well. It was the look of someone trying to escape the clutches of a nightmare thought to be reality. That look was the reason he now slept as little as possible. Seeing it reflected in his angel's luminous eyes was like being stabbed in the heart countless times, each stab more painful than the one before.

"Christine what's wrong" he said sitting on the bed and looking deep into her eyes. She said nothing, but instantly grabbed his ungloved hand as though she were holding onto a life preserver. He had no idea such a small hand could hold so much power. That's when he felt the familiar shape and texture of his ring around her finger. Suddenly realizing that her most recent traumatic event had been nothing but a nightmare and remembering she was wearing his ring. She yanked her hand away. How could I have been so stupid reaching for him with this hand? Why did I reach for him at all? I am so weak. I want him to hate me." She thought to herself as a silent tear ran down her cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

He sprang to his feet. Christine's hand so abruptly leaving his felt like the amputation of a critical limb. He quickly turned to see her curled up, her right hand covering her ring finger. "Does she honestly believe that there is a possibility that I did not notice she is wearing my ring or that I would forget that I felt it as I held her beautiful hand?" He thought to himself. "Christine this silence is suffocating I will not stand for it! He screamed. "Do you hear me? And I will not throw you out into the street!" He watched as she moved out of her curled up position and the expression on her face turned from terror to wonder. "That is what you want or what you think you want isn't it for me to throw you out?" When she did not answer he stormed out of the room banging the door as he left.

"I have to get out of here." She thought. "Now where did he put my dress?" she wondered pulling the covers off herself. When she was finally out of bed and standing steadily on her feet she tiptoed around the bedroom, hoping he would not hear her. Her angel was known to have an exceptional ear. She careful and quietly opened the closet doors, the white dress he had found her in was nowhere in sight, but the closet was stocked with other garments far more beautiful then any clothing she had ever owned. After quickly making a selection she left the room. Her heart was pounding.

The Phantom heard her dictate footsteps but stayed sitting at his organ. "No doubt I have surprised her She expected me to be waiting outside her bedroom ready to pounce the moment she made a move, afraid that if I did not she would leave me. And not long ago I would have, but Christine is not leaving me this time. She will never leave me again." He thought silently.

Christine rushed into the bathroom and closed the door gently behind her, she felt so dirty. She wondered how much soap and shampoo it would take to cleanse her. "You are still pure as white snow" Her angel's words echoed in her head, but would she ever feel that way again. She knew her angel did not physically harm her but still she felt defiled in more ways than one. She looked inside the large tub already filled, without a thought as to how it was filled she stripped herself of the sky-blue nightgown she had been wearing and stepped inside it. The water was still hot just the temperature she wanted. "He is not my angel" she whispered. She reached for the soap which smelled of roses. Suddenly she heard that music, the music that haunted her, the music from Don Juan Triumph. She shook her head, hoping that this motion would chase the song away. She didn't want to face the memory; she was trying to forget everything. She began to scrub her body so hard it hurt, some of her busies were still visible and tender. The music still played, she tried covering her ears while she washed her hair, but it was useless. She stayed in the tub for two hours, when the water become too cold to tolerate she stepped out, quickly dressed and walked out towards the music room.


End file.
